


Like a Hole in the Head

by hexagonad (ideserveyou)



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Angst, Fluff, Flying Carpet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/hexagonad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his involvement in saving the world from 'Nanageddon', Saboo is left to wander the streets of London, feeling distinctly the worse for the wear. The Board of Shamen have a rescue plan. Unfortunately, they are a bit crap at rescue plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "You can see the lights through it."

Saboo leans unsteadily against a lamp-post, wondering why there's a knitting needle lying on the ground at his feet.

His head hurts, but he can't remember why. He disentangles himself from a few strands of wool that seem to be clinging to him, and peers blearily through the drizzle. 

He doesn’t know where he is: somewhere in London, presumably. There’s nobody in sight; no demons, but nobody to help him either.

How long has he been left to wander around like this? It could be days. It feels like days. He’s starving, wet through, shivering, disoriented, and very, very pissed off.

Fucking Board of fucking Shamen. It's all coming back now. How on earth he can be expected to work with people like that –

Harrison. Dennis. Kirk. And most especially that little tit Naboo. Where are they when you need them?

When it comes to the crunch, they’re all fucking useless.

Muttering savagely to himself, he sets off down the narrow street. The pavement is cracked and uneven, making him stumble and wince at the pain in his blistered feet. He trips over a doorstep and almost falls: saves himself by grabbing onto the doorpost.

At last. Somewhere with signs of life. There’s the heavy pulse of music, and a waft of stale booze and smoke: some sort of seedy club. Not Saboo’s usual scene, but the door is half-open and there’s no bouncer to turn him back.

And the air coming through the door may stink, but at least it’s warm.

So warm… he needs warm, he’s cold without the wrappings of Nanatoo's woolly scarf. He slips through the door and wobbles down a corridor into a gloomy, black-painted room. At first he feels a bit conspicuous teetering around in high-heeled shoes, but he's still too cold to take them off. Anyway the place is full of goths and nobody takes much notice of him.

He waits for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

Hang on a minute.

Is that a gorilla over there with those two girls?

Then someone bumps into him.

Someone small.

“Evening gorgeous,” the someone giggles, “fancy meeting you here.”

Oh, shit. This is just what Saboo needs. He needs this like –

“Do you know you’ve got a hole in your head?”

Saboo can’t understand why anybody would be giggling. This is serious. Very, very serious. “Yes,” he snaps back, “I do know, I could hardly fail to be aware of it.”

“It’s a good look for you. Very cool. You can see the lights through it.”

Feeling terrible, Saboo leans on the wall. “Are you high, Naboo?” he asks severely.

Naboo giggles more. “Yeah. Good to see you too, Saboo. You look great, you should wear a dress more often.”

“It isn’t a dress, it’s a coat.”

“Whatever, it goes well with the heels, you got a ladder in your tights though.”

“I’m not surprised, I’ve been walking the streets for days…” The room spins, and Saboo slides down to the floor.

Naboo kneels beside him. “You OK down there?”

“Do I look like I’m OK?” Saboo snarls. “Why couldn’t I bump into someone _competent_ , you plum duff? Why did it have to be _you_?”

“Magic. It was meant to be.” Naboo is laughing outright now.

“No, it sodding well wasn’t. You know I’ve never liked you.”

The little shaman shrugs. “OK, I’ll go an’ call Tony then, I’m sure he’ll be happy to – take care of you.”

“No way.” Saboo heaves at the thought. “I am NOT letting Tony bloody Harrison see me like this. And if you EVER tell him…”

“What you gonna do? Bludgeon me to death with a shoe?”

Naboo is laughing and laughing and Saboo can’t do anything except lie on the floor; the lights are dancing with the music and is that a gorilla over there with those two girls?

He groans. Naboo puts a hand on his forehead, beside the hole. The touch is cool and Saboo can feel the power in it; he’d never known Naboo really had any, always thought he was only on the council because Dennis fancied him.

Naboo smiles. “Yeah, it is a gorilla over there. It’s Bollo, you idiot. Yeah, I do have the power, how d’you fink you ended up here? An’ no, Dennis don’t fancy me, he fancies you. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Saboo tries to sit up, and heaves again. Naboo leans down; speaks very clearly in his ear. “Tell you what we’re gonna do, OK? I’m just gonna tell Bollo you’ve finally showed up, leave him to get some action, then I’m gonna take you home an’ fix you. An’ if you ever tell the H-Man that I chose you over two hot goth chicks…”

“What are you going to do?” But Saboo can’t think what comes next.

Naboo shakes his head. “No comeback? Oh, dear. You're in a bad way. Don’t go anywhere.”

He’s gone, Saboo feels the loss, the music is arguing with the lights and he wishes they’d both shut up. He shuts his eyes.

“Hey,” a voice says in his ear, “don’t cry, it’s gonna be OK now.”

“I’m _not_ crying,” he sobs. “I – never – cry –”

“Have it your own way.” Naboo passes him a tissue, and hauls him to his feet, one arm across Naboo’s shoulders.

Naboo feels strong and solid and Saboo feels as though he’s floating… then he opens his eyes and realises it’s because he _is_ floating… It makes him feel more nauseous than ever. He holds on tight as Naboo tows him out of the club, chatting away as though this is something he does every day.

“Got the carpet parked out the back. I’m not s’posed to use it for personal transport, but seein’ as I’m rescuin’ a fellow shaman, I don’t expect Dennis’ll mind. An’ it’s a beautiful night for flyin’.”

“You’re flying all the time anyway, you little stoner,” Saboo mutters.

“Look who’s talkin’. You’re the one glidin’ along two foot off of the floor.”

He has a point.

And he’s right about the night. It’s truly beautiful. The clouds have cleared away, the stars are dancing with the moon and is that a glimpse of the Xooberon Nebula away up there between those two planets?

Saboo hopes so. And he also hopes –

Hang on just a minute, he must really be in a bad way.

Naboo lets him sink gently down on the carpet, and smiles. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too. Your thoughts are all leakin’ out of that hole in your head, I can hear ’em loud and clear.” The smile turns into yet another of those infuriating giggles.

Oh, _fuck_.

“It’s all right.” Naboo clambers on board, and bends down low, so low that his silky hair brushes the other shaman’s cheek. His breath is warm against Saboo’s ear.

“Dennis ain’t the only one,” he whispers, and launches the carpet up into the glittering sky.


	2. "It should all go numb in a minute, then I'll just squeeze this frog over it..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naboo fixes Saboo's magical injuries. Or tries to, at any rate.

Saboo never thought he’d be happy to be back in Naboo’s squalid little flat; but then, today has been full of surprises.

Naboo’s two waste-of-space employees are sitting very close together on the sofa when the shamen walk in (or rather, when Naboo walks in; Saboo is still floating).

They move rather hastily apart and Vince says, too brightly, ‘Alright, Naboo?’

Howard is blushing.

And wearing eyeliner.

At least he looks better as a goth than he did as a nana. Knee-length floral Crimplene is not a good look for anybody, especially anybody with a moustache.

‘Oh, er, hi Naboo, you found him then.’ Howard crosses his legs elaborately. Probably hoping nobody will notice what’s happening inside his skin-tight black trousers.

‘Well, it was more like he found me, actually. Budge up a bit, Vince.’ Naboo shoves Vince along the sofa until the gap between the two humans is wide enough for him to push Saboo into it and sit him down. ‘Sorry to interrupt your romantic evenin’, but I need you to keep him warm while I get some things to fix him with. An’ be gentle with him, he’s been to the crunch an’ back, remember.’

Vince pulls an insanitary-looking rug from the back of the sofa and drapes it over all three of them. Saboo hates to admit it, but the warmth of the primitive fabric is welcome; he’s still chilled to the bone, and a carpet flight through the frosty winter sky hasn’t helped.

‘Blimey, you’re cold. I can feel the cold comin’ out of you in waves. Hey Howard, snuggle up a bit, this poor sod’s freezin’.’

‘I thought you didn’t even like Naboo,’ Howard says in a puzzled voice, as he shuffles closer under the blanket.

The cold makes speech impossible; and anyway, Saboo doesn’t know how to answer that. Or even whether it’s a question at all.

‘ _Do_ you like him?’ Vince asks, all guileless blue eyes.

Saboo shakes his head and wishes Vince would shut up.

Vince smirks. ‘Do you love him?’

‘Shut up, Vince,’ Howard says, and Saboo gives him a grateful glance.

‘He does love him though, Howard. Or why would he be here?’

‘Just… shut up about it, Vince, not everything revolves around sex.’

‘Yeah, it does.’ Vince grins wickedly.

Saboo relaxes against Howard’s shoulder. The warmth of these primitive humans is welcome, too; poor things, they have to keep themselves warm, their crappy planet doesn’t even know what hot is, you can’t rely on its pathetic local star like you can on the suns of Xooberon.

Vince quivers with laughter, and says very quietly: ‘Did you kiss him?’

Shut up, you tit, just shut up, this isn’t funny, it’s too much on top of everything that’s happened, the demon invasion and the stress of working with Tony and the feeling of knitting needles thudding into flesh and the cold and the floating and the stars and awakening to a swift, delicate press of lips and a small voice whispering _wake up, ballbag, we’re home_ … and the pain…

The binding spell that held it all together finally fails, as Saboo gives in to the exhaustion he’s been fighting for days.

‘You’re bleeding.’ Vince’s voice is high with sudden alarm. ‘Naboo, he’s bleeding. What’s happening? Do something!’

There is warm wetness seeping through the coat or dress or whatever it is, and oh shit, it hurts, _it hurts_ …

‘I’m sure it does. Hang in there, we’ll take care of you.’

Fuck, must’ve said that out loud.

‘Yeah, you did. It’s all right.’ Howard takes the hand Saboo didn’t even know he was holding out, and holds tight.

‘Hurry up, Naboo.’ Vince sounds panicky.

‘I’ll be there in a minute, OK? Just findin’ the potions I need. Can’t plug a demonic wound with just any old rubbish, you know.’

It’s more like two minutes and it feels like two lifetimes, but at last he is there, and Howard’s hand is warm and solid as Vince helps to strip away that ridiculous outfit, thankfully without comment.

It could be worse. At least that damn gorilla isn’t here. He didn’t need to see this.

‘You idiots,’ Naboo squeaks, ‘you only told me about the one in his head, you never said he took four needles to the chest as well.’

‘Sorry, Naboo. We forgot, there was a lot else going on… But you can fix them, right?’

‘I dunno, Vince, this looks bad, I might ’ave to call Dennis.’

‘Please don’t,’ Saboo whispers, and bites his lip with the pain.

‘Well, alright, I’ll do my best. We need to lay you out flat. Vince, if you’re gonna puke, go an’ do it somewhere else.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Good. Go an’ boil the kettle, we need hot water. Howard, can you…?’

‘Like this?’

‘Fine, yeah.’

Saboo finds himself lying with his head across Howard’s knees and two big warm hands holding him down as Naboo cleans away the blood and then does something with an evil-smelling potion that makes Saboo arch his back in agony, and also swear his tits off.

‘Sorry ’bout that, it does tend to sting a bit.’

Was that a tiny tremor in Naboo’s level voice?

‘It should all go numb in a minute, then I’ll just squeeze this frog over it…’

‘Does the frog’s slime have healing powers or something?’ Howard asks.

‘Nah, but look at its stupid expression, if ever an amphibian deserved a good squeezin’ this one does. Then I’ll put some fillin’ in the holes an’ it’ll all be fine… Vince, quit fiddlin’ with those jars, that’s powerful magic stuff in there.’

‘Shouldn’t this one be in the kitchen? It says “cherry pie” on the label.’

‘Course it does. It’s the best fillin’ there is. Hand it over, an’ get us a teaspoon. An’ if you manage not to faint, you can scrape the jar out afterwards.’

Nobody faints, not even Saboo, although having your brain and lungs reconstructed with a teaspoon is not a pleasant sensation.

Howard draws the occasional sharp breath, but he doesn’t let go of Saboo’s shoulders until Naboo drops the spoon back into the jar with a faint ‘clink’ and hands it to Vince.

‘There you go, knock yourself out, pity to waste it… Cheers, Howard. Saboo, ya ballbag, you still with us?’

Saboo forces himself to croak: ‘Yes.’

‘Sit up, then, an’ we’ll see whether it’s worked.’

‘It had better have worked.’ Saboo groans as Howard helps him to sit up and swing his legs to the floor. ‘I’m not going through that again. And I much prefer rhubarb, anyway.’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers, sir,’ Howard intones sanctimoniously.

Saboo is about to point out that this is something he neither begged for nor chose, but something in Naboo’s expression stops him.

Little tit’s actually worried.

‘He looks alright to me,’ Vince says, sucking thoughtfully on the teaspoon.

‘You look a bit peaky, though, Vince.’ Howard gets off the sofa and puts a hand on Vince’s shoulder. ‘Bit pale.’

Vince is indeed very white and wide-eyed, his mouth stained a vivid cherry-pink. He looks at himself in the mirror. ‘I do, don’t I?’ His expression brightens. ‘Genius. It’s just perfect for the goth look.’

‘Is that all you can think about – how you look?’ Naboo snaps. ‘Howard, get this idiot out of here before I shove a frog somewhere he didn’t even know I could.’

‘Sorry, Naboo,’ Vince mumbles. Howard whispers something in his ear, and he nods. ‘I’ll – we’ll see you in the morning, yeah?’

‘Whatever.’ Naboo turns his back on the two of them, and bends over to check Saboo’s injuries. ‘Those don’t look too bad, if I say so myself. I’m not really trained in magical surgery. Good thing you didn’t get a hole in the heart as well.’

His face is intent, professional, concerned. Those black-and-silver robes are stunning, even crumpled and stained from a night’s hard partying followed by a life-or-death rescue mission; and someone (Vince, most likely) has artfully applied eyeliner and just a touch of makeup, to emphasise Naboo’s wide dark eyes and fine-boned features. There’s still a trace of lipgloss on his mouth, that soft mouth, so gentle, Saboo knows he didn’t imagine it…

Naboo looks up, smirking slightly; evidently not worried any more, then. ‘We need to get your core temperature back up. You’re still shiverin’. You wanna have a hot shower?’

‘Won’t the holes –’

‘Nah, they’ll be fine now. Look.’

Saboo steals a hasty glance, and is reassured: a large area of his midriff is covered by multicoloured bruising, but the four little round knitting-needle scars are already almost invisible.

A chance to be warm again is tempting, very tempting…

‘I’ll wash your back.’

That shouldn’t sound as tempting as it does. ‘I can manage.’

‘Yeah, I know, but I’ll do it anyway… I’d offer to wash your front too, but I don’t wanna push it.’ Naboo is giggling again.

Saboo suddenly feels very weary. ‘All right, you know what? I give up. Just do – whatever.’

He wriggles free of the rest of his outfit and gets unsteadily to his feet.

‘Happy now? I’m standing here in my underwear, completely at rock bottom, and all you can think about is your own smutty little fantasy. Well, I hope you’re enjoying this. Because I’m most certainly not.’

‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that.’

‘Oh, and what did you mean it to sound like? No, don’t tell me, I don’t care. Just get me fucking well warm and then let me sleep. Just – ’

Naboo puts an arm round him, to hold him up. ‘Hey. It’s all right.’

‘No, it’s not. It’s not…’

And now Naboo has both arms round him, and he’s resting his cheek on Naboo’s sleek hair, and choking out: ‘I’m sorry.’

Naboo gives him a friendly squeeze. ‘ ’S’OK, I know you’ve ’ad a tough week. Come on. Bathroom’s this way. An’ I promise I won’t look if you don’t want me to.’


	3. "How do you know you don't like something you've never even tried?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saboo's still not entirely happy although he's had a nice hot shower and there is macaroni cheese for dinner.

‘Naboo, you plum, what on earth are these supposed to be?’ 

‘They’re Howard’s pyjamas. You’re both tall… I thought they’d prob’ly fit you OK. An’ they do, look.’

‘I _am_ looking, and they don’t.’ Saboo glares at his multiple and extremely unflattering reflections in the bathroom’s many mirrors. ‘They’re a baggy nightmare. And for fuck’s sake, they’re _paisley patterned_. I _cannot_ go out of this bathroom looking like this.’

Naboo’s mouth twitches. ‘Might look better if you put the matchin’ top on as well.’

‘Somehow I seriously doubt it.’

‘Well,’ Naboo says calmly, ‘you can walk round the flat naked if you’d prefer that. I know _I_ would…’

‘Well, I wouldn’t.’

‘Thought not. But a shaman can dream, can’t he?’ Naboo passes the pyjama jacket, and watches Saboo shrug his way reluctantly into it. ‘Hmmm. Maybe I was wrong about that lookin’ better... Here you go, cover it up with this.’ He holds out a fluffy brown dressing-gown.

At least it’s warm, and it does hide most of the offensive pattern. Naboo’s doing his best, even if it’s a bit crap.

‘Thank you,’ Saboo growls.

Naboo smirks. But only slightly. ‘You’re welcome… and hey, Howard an’ Vince are makin’ us dinner, it was Vince’s idea to make you feel better an’ make me not be pissed off with him any more, which means Howard’ll be doin’ most of the actual cookin’, so don’t diss his terrible taste in nightwear in front of him.’

‘I won’t. But you have to promise me not to laugh.’

‘At you? I wouldn’t dare.’ Grinning openly now, Naboo pulls his robes on over his head, and jams his turban back onto his damp hair. ‘Come on, whatever it is it smells great.’

Whatever-it-is turns out to be macaroni cheese, great creamy mounds of it, and it tastes even better than it smelt. After his first few desperate, ravenous mouthfuls, the subtlety of the flavour has fully registered, and Saboo is able to withdraw his attention from his plate for a few moments, in order to look at Howard with a new respect. ‘This is delicious. Thank you.’

Howard looks back at him with mild puzzlement. ‘Are those my pyjamas?’

‘I borrowed ’em,’ Naboo says unrepentantly and indistinctly, through a mouthful of cheese. ‘Knew you wouldn’t mind. An’ it’s not as though you’ll be needin’ em tonight, is it?’

‘Ummm… well, actually…’

‘Oh, c’m’on Howard,’ Vince laughs, putting a hand on Howard’s shoulder. ‘Naboo’s right. An’ they look better on Saboo. Still pretty ridiculous, but better.’

Howard blushes, mumbles ‘You’re welcome,’ shrugs off Vince’s hand, and starts fussing with the saucepan, doling out second helpings.

Saboo takes refuge in diplomatic silence, trying to be sensible and eat slowly, sneaking glances at Naboo every so often as the little shaman checks his mobile phone – ‘Twenty-three messages from Dennis, anybody’d think he was worried about you, better send ’im one back to say I found you I suppose’ – while he tucks away a second and then a third helping.

Naboo really is an enigma.

How is it possible for someone so small to eat that much macaroni cheese without exploding?

And how is it possible for an eccentric midget you don’t even _like_ to wreak such havoc on your well-trained shamanic mind?

Not to mention your body…

He watches Naboo’s small hands flickering over the phone buttons; the same hands that had spread the shower gel across Saboo’s aching back, carefully going so far and no further, the power of the little shaman’s touch unknotting the tension until it washed away like the bubbles.

It was bliss.

He’d turned round to thank Naboo without even thinking about it.

Only to find that Naboo was standing actually in the bath, which hadn’t actually been part of the deal, and that he was stark naked, which hadn’t been part of the deal either.

How had he even got out of those robes without making a sound?

And as to what was inside them –

Saboo’s face must have registered his shock: Naboo frowned, and said quietly: ‘What _is_ your problem with me? Is it this?’

‘What makes you think I have a problem?’ At least I have fucking _genitals_ … He turned away, staring at the crumbling grout between the off-white tiles on the wall.

Naboo snorted. ‘Here I am, offerin’ you the smoulderin’ sexual release you so clearly need, an’ equally clearly haven’t had in years, an’ you look at me as though I’m a bat-dropping on your shoe, an’ then turn your back. Makes me wonder why I bother.’

‘Why do you?’

‘Dunno really, I just… Does there have to be a why?’

‘Perhaps there doesn’t.’ Saboo had carried on staring at the tiles, while the water sluiced down and filled the bathroom with steam.

‘Haven’t you seen a third-sexer before?’ It wasn’t a challenge, or a condemnation; it sounded, if anything, sympathetic.

Saboo shook his pounding head. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Not many people do. It’s not exactly somethin’ you shout from the rooftops. Even on Xooberon, which this isn’t.’

‘Do _they_ know?’

‘Vince’n’Howard? Not unless Bollo’s said anythin’. Mind you, they’re unusual for humans, they take all sorts of other weird stuff in their stride, if they found out I ’ad no tackle I don’t think it’d even make ’em blink. Vince might ask a few embarrassin’ questions, but Howard’d tell ’im it wasn’t any of their business, and we’d all just make another pot of tea an’ carry on.’

‘I’m not like them.’

‘I’m not expectin’ you to be. Listen, I’m getting’ cold stood ’ere, an’ we need to sort this out one way or the other.’

‘But I don’t even –’

‘Oh, change the fuckin’ record. How do you know you don’t like somethin’ you’ve never even _tried_? I’m not a bat-dropping on your shoe, I’m Naboo, that’s who. Gimme a bit of respect. At least look me in the eye while you’re tellin’ me you don’t want me.’

Saboo had turned round and taken one look, and then dropped his gaze, his cheeks burning.

‘Go on, look all you like.’ Naboo’s voice had lost its waspish edge. ‘I know the timin’s crap an’ I won’t bother you if this really isn’t what you want. Or if you need more time to think. Third-sex isn’t everyone’s bag… but I never had any complaints before…’

Somehow Saboo had forced his eyes to meet Naboo’s, and he’d wanted to say something lightly humorous, like ‘I’m not surprised,’ to prove that he was still in control of this situation, but his throat had seized up. And as for being in control…

‘Alright, you don’t need to say anythin’, your body’s doin’ the talkin’ for you. An’ it’s told me all I need to know for now.’ Naboo’s grin lit up the steamy bathroom. ‘Now move over, I wanna do my hair. Towels are on the rail, an’ I borrowed some pyjamas for you…’

‘You OK there?’ Howard’s voice cuts through Saboo’s reverie. ‘Can I get you anything else – more food? I think there are some biscuits somewhere if Vince hasn’t eaten them all.’

‘Shut up Howard, I’m not a total pig, I always leave at least one just in case.’

‘No, I – I’m fine.’ Saboo makes himself focus on the humans across the table. ‘That was great. Thank you. I hadn’t eaten for days.’

A huge yawn wracks him.

‘You look like you need to sleep for days,’ Vince says. ‘Tell you what, how about bedtime cocoa an’ a hot water bottle? You’ll go to sleep quicker if you’re warm. I always do. An’ I don’t need the hot water bottle any more, not since I’ve bin sleepin’ with Howard, he’s always warm...’

‘There is such a thing as too much information, Vince,’ Howard cuts in.

‘There certainly is.’ Naboo wrinkles his nose in disgust.

‘Leave him alone, he’s making very sensible suggestions.’ Saboo yawns hugely again, and staggers over to the sofa. ‘Thank you, Vince. A hot drink and some non-human portable warmth would be very welcome.’

‘Do I fall within that definition?’ Naboo asks very quietly, as Howard and Vince are bickering amicably over the kettle and the clearing-up and who’s done what with the stopper for the hot-water bottle.

Please, no more tonight. There’s been enough to deal with today. And the thought of lying next to that small smooth body… so tempting, but also so terrifying.

Saboo’s not entirely sure why he’s afraid. After all, it’s not as though Naboo could physically invade him. But the little one is already walking around in Saboo’s mind as though he owns the place, even though the hole is mended and Saboo’s thoughts are no longer leaking out…

Naboo looks at him with those fathomless dark eyes, and he wonders how true that last thought is.

‘OK then,’ Naboo says. ‘Not tonight. Stay on the sofa – I’ll get you another blanket or three.’

Four blankets and a hot-water bottle render the lumpy sofa tolerably comfortable. It’s the first time Saboo’s feet have been properly warm since he broke into that charity shop and stole those ridiculous high heels. He’s barely got under the covers and already his eyes are closing. He murmurs a sleepy goodnight to Vince and Howard, but he’s not sure they’ve heard him, they seem very focused on each other…

‘G’night, ballbag. Sweet dreams.’ Naboo is smiling down at him. ‘No, shut up, don’t say anyfink you’ll regret in the mornin’. Just go to sleep.’

There’s a command in his words that Saboo is powerless to disobey. A dark tide of sleep rolls over him and carries him away, and he’s not sure whether the silken touch of lips on his cheek is the last impression of reality or the first of dreams.


	4. "Good thing I had a third helping, thought I might need it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saboo has eaten too much cheese and it gives him nightmares.

On the sofa, Saboo dreams. 

He dreams of lights dancing with gorillas, of stars and music streaming across the sky.

He dreams of a sleek white body and silken dark hair jewelled with raindrops, of kohl-rimmed eyes looking into his soul.

Then the lights and the stars fade to dimness, and he is alone in echoing silence.

His feet are cold.

He looks down; he is standing up to his ankles in a dark pool.

A tiny, fragile body floats just out of reach, its dead hair tangled around its neck and its dull eyes gazing sightlessly at him: black holes leading into nothingness.

It sinks below the surface as he watches, and the last of the stars go out.

There is nothing left.

He wakes abruptly, shuddering all over and drenched in icy sweat.

The hot-water bottle at his feet is no longer hot, but cold and unfriendly. He boots it onto the floor with a dull _flump_ that sounds too loud in the echoing silence of the lounge.

His heart is thudding wildly. He has a sudden urge to go and check on Naboo, to open the bedroom door just a crack, to see that he’s breathing; maybe to lean over, close enough to see that the pulse is still beating in his neck…

Stupid, really. Of course Naboo’s perfectly all right.

But it’s impossible to sleep without knowing. And his feet are cold. And the thought of the dream returning –

Saboo pulls the dressing gown close round him, and creeps down the passageway.

There’s a giggle from the bed, the moment the door creaks open. ‘Swallowed your pride, did you?’

‘I’ve none left.’

‘Hey.’ Naboo turns on the bedside lamp; he is no longer laughing. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I was cold,’ Saboo mutters.

‘An’ you had a bad dream.’

‘How did you know?’

‘I saw it too. My shaman-senses picked it up. Either that, or we’ve both had too much cheese.’

‘I’m sorry I woke you.’

‘You didn’t. Those two did.’

There is a muffled thud and the sound of faint laughter from the next-door bedroom; then an unmistakable, rhythmic creaking, as of elderly and much-abused bedsprings.

Naboo rolls his eyes. ‘At it like bloody rabbits. That’s the third time tonight, an’ it’s not even midnight yet. I mean, I’m happy for them an’ everything, but there are limits… Listen, I can hear your teeth chatterin’, you better get in ’ere, you won’t heal properly unless you’re warm.’

Saboo takes a couple of steps towards the bed.

‘Don’t pretend you didn’t come in here for this. Cos I won’t believe you.’ Naboo turns back the bedcovers, and looks down at himself. ‘D’you want me to put somefink on, though?’

‘No, it’s all right, I –’ Explaining is just too complicated. Even to himself. Saboo strips off the dressing gown and drops it on the floor.

‘You get better heat transmission skin to skin,’ Naboo says, very seriously.

Saboo sighs, and takes off the pyjama jacket as well.

The bed is soft and welcoming; the covers smell of incense. He lies down, cautiously, flat on his back.

‘This way, I think.’ Naboo pushes him onto his side, facing the door. ‘More contact. I’ll turn up my metabolism f’r a bit.’

He pulls the blankets back over them both and presses close against Saboo’s back, with one arm over him. He takes several deep breaths, and his temperature starts to rise, and rise, until he’s as hot as a blue desert rock basking under the suns of Xooberon.

There’s a sharp cry from the bedroom next door, then more laughter, and footsteps stumbling down the hall to the bathroom and back again.

A door clicks shut, and then all is quiet.

The warmth soaks through Saboo’s skin, through his body, right down to his freezing toes.

‘Better?’ Naboo murmurs, his breath tickling Saboo’s shoulder-blade.

‘Much better. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. ’S’only a bit of energy.’

‘No, I mean, thank you for all of it – rescuing me, and all that. I have to admit, I was pretty much at the end of my resources. I don’t think I’d have survived another night.’

‘Yeah,’ Naboo says thoughtfully, ‘you were a bit wrecked by the time I called you in.’

‘Called me in?’

‘Told you I had the power. I was puttin’ out a subconscious signal irresistible to any other mighty shamanic mind on this primitive planet. Trouble was, you were out of it an’ not receivin’… Tony Harrison showed up days before you did.’

‘Was he all right?’

‘When’s the H-Man ever _not_ all right? Thought ’e’d never stop drivellin’ on, the pink ballbag. He had some cock’n’bull story about you kickin’ ’im off the carpet for getting’ you lost, an’ then him landin’ on top of the O2, bouncin’ off into the Thames an’ bein’ rescued by the Royal Yacht.’

‘I did kick him off the carpet. He’s a crap navigator, and bloody annoying to boot. But I expect he’s making the rest of it up.’

‘He said the Queen invited him to dinner and plied him with champagne and caviar…’

Saboo snorts. ‘Tony has a remarkable ability to home in on alcohol. The rest of it’ll be pure bullshit. He probably raided a skip at the back of Tesco, like he did on the way to Kirk’s birthday party.’

‘He did have a hell of a hangover. But he wasn’t in anywhere near as bad a state as you were. He’d missed all the demon action.’ Naboo shudders, and holds on a little tighter. ‘When that came to the crunch, it wasn’t pretty.’

‘You can speak to _me_ of the crunch?’

‘Reckon I can now. I hit rock bottom too, you know. Six hours on the Northern Line an’ two bottles of tequila… an’ no magic. You’ve never had your powers revoked, you don’t know –’

‘What it’s like to be helpless? I think I do, actually.’

‘Maybe you do an’ all. Don’t mind admittin’, it teared me up a bit, seein’ you like that.’

‘You disguised it very well,’ Saboo says drily.

‘Yeah, well… I’ve had a lot of practice at that. Keepin’ deadpan, not sayin’ anyfink. Makes life simpler.’

‘You won’t say anything about all this, will you?’

‘To the Board, you mean?’

‘Yes. I – I’ve got a professional reputation to maintain. I can’t afford to have the others finding out that I’ve been – ’

‘Dressin’ up in tights? Pretendin’ to be a nana? Fraternising with a council colleague?’ Naboo shakes with laughter. ‘Nah, don’t worry, I won’t tell ’em. I texted Dennis that you needed three days’ peace an’ quiet to recover from the evil killer knittin’ needles. Gave him way more medical information than he’ll have wanted. We’re not goin’ to get interrupted. Even though this is much more irregular behaviour than dj’ing with my familiar.’

‘Talking of which… we’re not going to get interrupted by a gorilla, are we?’

‘No way, I don’t _sleep_ with my familiar. What sort of perve d’you fink I am? Bollo sleeps on the beanbags in the corner. Or in the broom cupboard if he’s been on a bender. Like tonight. He’ll come rollin’ in at four a.m. an’ crash out among the hoover bags. If he comes home at all… Is your back warm yet?’

‘I’m fine now, thanks. Should I go back to the sofa?’

‘Not unless you want. Plenty of room in this bed. An’ I don’t mind. Look, why don’t you roll over this way, then I can warm your front up too.’

Not even hesitating any more, Saboo rolls over and pulls Naboo close, hot and comforting against the dull ache of the needle-scars.

‘Can’t keep this up much longer, I’m afraid.’ Naboo’s breathing hard, as though he’s been running; his forehead is damp with sweat.

‘You should stop right now.’ Saboo puts a hand on Naboo’s chest. ‘Your heart’s going like a hammer. That can’t be good.’

‘It isn’t. Generatin’ heat uses up a lot of energy. Good thing I had a third helping, thought I might need it… might have overdone it a bit there… Gimme a minute.’

He’s shaking all over. Saboo holds him while his breathing calms. His skin’s soft and smooth and his hair feels like silk and he fits into Saboo’s arms as though he belongs there and… oh. Fuck.

Saboo shifts away, too late.

‘’S nothin’ to be embarrassed about,’ Naboo murmurs. ‘I’m the same.’ He takes Saboo’s hand and places it over his groin, where his genitals should be but aren't. It feels smooth and firm, and it's pulsing slightly...

Saboo lifts his hand hastily away again. ‘But I thought you didn’t –’

‘Just cos you can’t see it, don’t mean it ain’t there. It’s all internal. Adaptation to conserve water, apparently. Genetic remnant of our desert past. Rare, now. We can be fathers, but it needs a lot of ingenuity an’ an understandin’ female.’

‘Stop being so blasted technical,’ Saboo grits between clenched teeth. He shivers.

‘You cold again?’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s… it’s this, it’s you, it’s the dream, it’s being tired, it’s… I don’t know what it is.’

His throat feels tight. He’s losing it. He’s lost it. He should never have let this happen. He should be getting out of this bed, right now, and running away, far away. But he’s so tired… so weak…

‘Don’t cry.’ Naboo brushes the tears away.

‘I _never_ cry. I told you.’

‘Yeah, right. Well if anyone asks me, I never saw it ’appen.’

‘Help me.’ The last shreds of Saboo’s pride are dissolving under those gentle touches to his cheek. ‘I can’t fight it, I can’t…’

‘Then don’t.’ Naboo strokes his hair; kisses him softly, open-mouthed, until Saboo pulls away.

‘But this isn’t right – we’re professionals, colleagues on the Board, we shouldn’t, we can’t do this.’

‘Stuff the Board. We’re mighty shamen, yeah? We can do whatever the fuck we want. As long as we’re sure we _do_ want.’

Saboo buries his head in Naboo’s shoulder. ‘I do want.’

‘I know you do. Just had to wait for you to work it out, didn’t I? Now, get your arse out of those ludicrous pyjamas. They don’t suit you.’

Saboo obeys happily, and stretches out under the covers, naked and hard and no longer embarrassed.

‘Beautiful,’ Naboo murmurs, running a hand down from nipple to navel, careful to avoid the bruising. ‘Just beautiful. Can I…?’

‘Of course. That is, you don’t have to, but if you want – _Oh_.’

‘Told you I ’adn’t ’ad many complaints.’ Naboo’s voice is warm with affection. ‘Go on, touch me too, you’re goin’ in there in a minute and you should know your enemy.’

‘You’re not my enemy.’ Saboo strokes over the strange, smooth mound between Naboo’s thighs; dares to reach lower, tracing a fingertip around the edge of the opening that’s there, feeling it quiver at his touch.

‘You’ve come a long way from the bloke who turned his back on me in the shower.’

‘We live and learn.’ Saboo thrusts against Naboo’s grip. ‘If you want me to fuck you, by the way, you’re going to have to stop doing that.’

‘OK.’ Naboo stops doing that, and rolls onto his back. ‘I _do_ want you to fuck me. An’ I want you to look at me while you’re fuckin’ me, an’ all.’ He kicks the bedcovers off and lies there smiling and slender and irresistible.

‘Do we need…’

Naboo shakes his head, grinning wickedly. ‘Just lookin’ at you makes me wet.’

‘Don’t be coarse. Not when we’re about to – to make love.’

‘Is this love?’ Naboo asks, as Saboo kneels above him.

‘Don’t ask me that. I don’t know. I’ve –’ Saboo looks away, blushing. ‘I’ve very little by which to judge.’

‘Fair enough. I guess sex’ll have to do.’ Naboo reaches down to touch himself, and slicks Saboo’s length with wet fingers. ‘An’ maybe later on there’ll be more to it than that.’

‘Do you want there to be more?’

‘Well, yeah. I know, surprised me too, but like I said, there doesn’t always have to be a “why”.’

Saboo hesitates.

‘Stop over-thinkin’ it, it’s very simple an’ it goes like this. You want me, I want you, we’re gonna fuck an’ we’re gonna enjoy it, end of story.’

He takes firm hold of Saboo’s cock and guides him in.

End of story? It feels more like a beginning.

The opening is smooth and tight. It feels awkward and a little disconcerting: not quite where either a first- or a second-sexer’s would be.

‘Bit weird, huh?’ Naboo is smiling up at him. ‘At least it means we can do it face-to-face. An’ we can do this…’ He reaches up to caress Saboo’s cheekbone; draws him down for kisses, deep and sweet.

When they break for air, Saboo has somehow worked all the way into Naboo’s body and it doesn’t feel awkward any more.

‘Are you all right? You’re still hot. And your heart’s racing.’

‘That’s… not a bad thing, in this context. I’m fine.’ Naboo lifts his hips and pushes against Saboo’s weight, slowly; muscles ripple deep inside.

In all Saboo’s sexual experience (three times if you don’t count Tony Harrison, and he always tries very hard not to), he’s never felt anything like this.

‘Open your eyes,’ Naboo whispers. ‘I wanna see…’

Saboo looks down at him, seeing Naboo with his veneer of cocky assurance stripped away, with his tangled hair fanned out around his flushed face, and his eyes wide and dark. He looks… vulnerable. And very, very sexy.

Naboo smiles. ‘You look pretty fit yourself an’ all.’

Those small hands are everywhere, touching, searching, stroking; and something inside Naboo is tightening, drawing up.

It’s not going to be long. The lights are dancing with the stars and Saboo can’t remember why he was afraid of this.

Naboo gives a sudden sharp gasp.

‘Am I hurting you?’

‘Yes. No. Don’t stop.’ Naboo rolls his head from side to side on the pillow. ‘That’s good. Fuck, that’s good…’

The lights blaze bright; Naboo’s smile brighter.

‘Little one… oh, little one…’

Naboo shudders and lets out a faint squeak.

All the lights go on in a burst of whiteness; someone is yelling and sobbing.

There is a thump on the wall. ‘Oi, keep it down will ya, we’re tryin’ to sleep in ’ere.’

Somehow this strikes Saboo as incredibly funny, and once he’s started laughing he can’t stop.

Beside him Naboo is laughing too; they try to stifle the noise with pillows, but they can’t help but quiver and snort until they’re limp and weak.

Finally they get a grip, breathless and tearful and tangled together. Naboo pushes Saboo’s damp hair out of his eyes and says very seriously: ‘I was right. You fucking well did need that.’

‘Much though it pains me to admit it, you were. And I did.’

‘Me too.’ Naboo stretches languorously. ‘Oops, I seem to’ve stuck to you a bit.’

‘Did you…?’

‘Yeah. Didn’t you hear me? Here you go. Share the proof.’ Naboo trails a finger through the wetness between his thighs; brings it up to Saboo’s lips. It’s musky and sweet and to Saboo’s surprise, utterly delicious. ‘I don’t always, an’ I didn’t expect it tonight, but seein’ you like that…’

‘Like what?’

‘Like’ – Naboo throws back his head and puts on an expression of utter bliss and abandonment – ‘like, “Oh, little one…” Tipped me over the edge, bein’ able to do that for you.’ He leans over for a kiss, warm and affectionate. ‘An’ now – ’

‘And now I think we need to clean up.’ Saboo shifts uncomfortably in the stickiness on the sheet.

‘Got the perfect thing right here.’ Naboo reaches down beside the bed and picks up the paisley pyjama trousers.

 

By the time Saboo comes back from the bathroom, Naboo is curled up in bed with his eyes tight shut and a peaceful smile curving his mouth. Saboo slides under the covers without disturbing him, and watches the pulse beating in his slender throat, the flickering of his long lashes, the even come-and-go of his breath.

This is love. It is _definitely_ love; and there doesn’t have to be a ‘why’.

Naboo opens one bright eye. ‘Yeah, I know. Good, innit?’


End file.
